


Just breathe.

by KiwiLombax15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, cuddly lesbians, tw: disassociation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/KiwiLombax15
Summary: For all she puts on a cheerful face, being lost to time left its scars.They show up all the deeper in the dark.





	Just breathe.

_“Emily?”_

_She felt like nothing, a wisp, a tiny fragment of mind blown on the winds of time. With herculean effort, she pushed herself forward, lost in time and space. Only one place was on her mind._

_Home._

_Had to get home._

_Emily._

_Emily._

_EmilyEmily **Emily-**_

_She was home, standing in her flat. Emily, lovely, red headed Emily, was curled up on her favorite spot on the couch, holding her phone like a lifeline. Even in the strange shades outside time, she was pale._

_“Emily? Emily, it's me, love! I'm right here! Emily!”_

_Emily was talking to someone on the phone._

_Winston._

_Thank god. She was talking to Winston._

_“Winston! Winston, I need help! It's busted! You've got to help me!”_

_“-Emily. I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do.”_

_“There's got t' be something, Winny. Please?”_

_“I just...can't find a trace of her. There isn't a signature I could lock onto like last time. She's slipped out of our reach. I spent hours trying to find her, but...I'm so sorry...I really am...”_

_Emily's breath hitched, her face stricken._

_“Please...no...” she said, voice soft and desperate._

_“We'll...arrange for a memorial service. She died on duty, honourably. She'll be...given a medal, of course.” Winston's voice was shaky. It was plain he was crying. “We did...everything we could...and we are so, so proud of her. I'm sorry, I...I have to go.”_

_The phone clicked off. Desperately, Lena (was she Lena? Was she still Lena she wasn't sure who she was **she wasn't sure who she was** ) reached out, hand passing through Emily's cheek as the woman she called lover, partner, friend, began to sob like her heart was ripped out._

_“Emily? Love, please don't cry! I'm here, I'm right here! I'm here in front of you, I'm not dead! I'm just lost! Please! Emily? Emily! Emily, please! Em-!”_

“-ily! Emily, no! Please!”

Lena jolted upright, trapped helplessly in bonds that choked her, held her limbs mercilessly as she thrashed, soaked in freezing sweat. The clinging strands of terror from the nightmare redoubled their grip as she screamed-

“Lena?”

Warm hands held her face and she stilled, gasping for air like a drowning woman.

“W-who's that? Who is-? Is this me?I-I don't know where I am! I don't know where I am! Help me!”

“Lena...shush now, hen. It's me. I'm here.” There was a soft clucking noise in the dark, and the ragged coils of horror began to pull back. She knew that sound, that little idiosyncratic noise of someone she loved comforting her. The binds that tied her registered belatedly as blankets. She began to tremble, cold and frightened and alone, the yawning gulfs of time a single glowing life raft away...

She was held to something warm, a noise on the edge of hearing. A steady thump and soft, even wind. A chest. Emily!

She pressed in tighter, the warmth seeping into her as a keening little cry of terror and anguish and sheer _relief_ escaped her.

“There you go, hen. There you go. Just breathe with me. Can you do that? Just...breathe with me.”

The soft Irish brogue was comfort itself, warm and familiar and loving. Lena caught the rhythm of her breathing and tried her best to follow along, breath shallow and trembling.

“Emily...”

“Thaaaat's it, dear. Just breathe. Talk to me when you feel ready, alright? No rush.”

Slowly, Lena settled back into herself, glancing over to the bedside table where her chronal accelerator hummed reassuringly, glowing strong and steady. Soft hands were stroking her hair and she closed her eyes, safe in the dark in her girlfriend's arms, where nothing could touch her...

“Bad one tonight. You're doing so well...”

“It was-”

“Easy now.”

“I-”

“Just breathe.”

Lena swallowed thickly, forcing herself to follow Emily's even pace.

“It broke. I was-I got lost again. Winston couldn't find me. I had to stand there in the flat watching you cry and I couldn't do anything. Couldn't touch you or nuffin'! Just had to stand there and watch. I was callin', and you couldn't hear me! And it hurt...”

“Winston checked it just last week. Remember? It's still in perfect nick.”

“But what if somethin' happens? What if a wire frays or a fuse blows and I'm lost again, or-”

“Lena. Stop. You know what happens when you get like this. You get stuck in a spiral. All those what-ifs and maybes. We're here now, love. I've never really understood all that time maths Winston goes on about, but that's one thing I do know. We're here _now._ And right now, nothing can hurt you. It's just us.”

Lena buried her face in Emily's warm neck and let herself cry, all the horror and grief and fear rising to a peak and bursting, scouring the dark places of her free of the ache. Around her she felt Emily untangle her, adjusting the blankets until she was warmly wrapped up again. Soft arms held her close, arms unscarred by war and battle, hands that had never held a weapon.

She would rather die before Emily needed to.

Those careful hands that smelled of vanilla lotion and the potato pancakes she'd made for dinner wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled her close.

A bad night.

She'd weathered worse.

For a few brief, wonderful moments, Lena Oxton, mercenary, ex Overwatch agent, protector of the innocents, let herself be protected.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more like this? Support the writer here! https://ko-fi.com/fruitbird


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